


Running You with Red

by BlankLiterature



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/F, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-02-15 16:46:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2236251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlankLiterature/pseuds/BlankLiterature
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: Mulan and Aurora made it to Storybrooke. It's Christmas eve, everyone else is with their newfound families, and neither of them has anyone but each other to spend the night with, so they might as well make the best of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Running You with Red

We've been in this land for a few months already, and in a lot of ways, one could say we adapted well. We have both found jobs: me as a music teacher at the school (which made me thankful for all those years my mother made me spend learning how to play the harp); you started out by helping Emma when she resumed her job as sheriff, and were soon promoted to deputy, because apparently they'd been lacking one for a while. All in all, we are fine. But there are still so many things that are simply foreign to us.

One of them just happens to be this holiday that the people here are about to celebrate. Of course, we had holidays back in our homes; we had work-free days to celebrate summer and spring and the harvest and the darkest night of winter and so on. But it was not like this. Honestly, I cannot even begin to understand what this is all about, and from what you told me, neither can you. There's a boy and a virgin and angels singing and an old man dressed in funny clothes flying around and delivering gifts, and I have absolutely no clue of how all of those fit together, or why.

But Snow, or Mary Margaret as she likes to be called here, explained to us that the main thing about this holiday, at least for them, is family. That's what everyone here appreciates more about it: being with their families, especially now that so many of them have finally found their family members after nearly three decades of being apart. For a lot of the people here, according to what she said, this is the first Christmas they'll celebrate together since the curse. And for her and Emma and Henry and Charming, it is the very first Christmas they'll spend all together ever. So of course the levels of excitement are huge – I can perfectly understand that.

That is as far as I'll go, though. Because, as good as it is to have a special day to be with your family, wasn't that supposed to be an everyday thing? At least in my world, it was... so I don't exactly understand how come it isn't here. In the end, it's just one more of the questions to add to the list, alongside with all those holiday-typical people and funny-looking animals and very precarious men-like figures made of gingery dough.

I think about it, and I'm at a complete loss when it comes to what I should do. I know you're no better than me at this either. After all, neither of us has families to spend this time with. Neither of us has families to spend _any_ day with; not anymore. On every other day, though, we just suck it up, no matter how painful it might be, and distract ourselves with something else. But when there's a day and the eve of that day (which would make the holiday last 2 days for me, but apparently the eve doesn't really count for them...) in which everyone is supposed to be with their families and we don't have those to start with... it's all a bit more complicated.

And for once, Snow did not really tell me what _I_ am supposed to be doing those days. You and I have been living in her old apartment together with Emma, since Snow herself moved to live with her husband right after the four of us came here. But right now, the two of them plus Henry have come back because apparently this kitchen is better than the one they have in their tiny little house. So the apartment is crowded, and all of them are excitedly preparing their dinner for tonight, with more food than I have seen since at least my last palace days before the sleeping curse.

And we... we don't have a place there. It's not our family, not our holiday, not our home. For the first time since we arrived here, I wonder if maybe it would have been better to have stayed behind. For the first time, I think it might have been a mistake to come with them, because I do not feel at ease in this place at all. The only thing that makes it slightly better is knowing that at least I am not alone in this; you're not only in the very same situation, which means you can probably understand it too, but you're also keeping me company tonight.

I am feeling so claustrophobic with all these people inside this apartment that is minuscule if compared to the kind of residence I have grown up being used to. And the more I look at them, the more I feel like I definitely do not belong here, and am simply intruding in a feast that is not meant for my presence. I need to leave. You do not seem any more comfortable than me, although you are far better at not letting things show. Still, you spend the whole morning and part of the afternoon sullenly sitting on the couch, barely speaking.

When I whisper to you that I need to get some air, you look at me like you completely understand the meaning behind my words. You grab the keys to your car, the apparently very old one you had managed to buy and somehow learnt how to make it move, we make an excuse about the day being too beautiful to stay in, with the cold air and the first snowflakes falling from a nearly clear blue sly, and we are out of the door.

They had explained to us that we could not leave the town, come what may. But even then, there is a lot that we still haven't explored in it. The forest, to start with, is the same and at the same time completely different from the one we knew. Then there is that street with pretty houses that we have been meaning to see for a while. And, if everything else fails, we can always ask Belle for the keys to the library and lose ourselves there for a while.

In the end, we do all of the above. It's not like we are in any hurry to go back to the apartment. We take a walk around the forest, but not for long, since very soon the tips on my fingers start getting numb from the cold, and you insist we get back to the car before I get sick. Even though we're technically out of danger now, in this new world, you are still far more protective of me than would be necessary. I can't honestly say that I mind it, though. Then we drive back and walk along a couple of streets, slowly because we know the way is not too long anyway.

When we reach Granny's, we find Belle there talking to Ruby about the fact that Rumplestiltskin promised her an unforgettable Christmas dinner, since it will be her first ever too. We talk to the two of them for a few minutes, leaving with a key-chain in hand and the promise to take good care of all the books, and especially of the keys themselves. The last block we walk is the one that takes us to the library; and that's where we stop and stay for quite a few hours. You're not exactly a book worm yourself, since you rarely have the patience to concentrate on reading; but you will sit for hours listening to me while I read for you. I think it's pretty much the same thing, and find it a bit funny that you can do one, but not the other. But you say it's different; you say my voice makes it so, and by that point, I am too tired to argue.

It has already been dark for hours once we leave the library, making sure we didn't forget to lock it, and keeping the key safely inside my purse. We walk to the car, and you drive us back to the front of the building where Snow and Emma's apartment is. You park, but neither of us opens the door. I look up to see their window still has the lights on. My gaze remains there for a moment, while I picture the happy family all gathered around the table, talking and smiling and laughing and eating and just enjoying each other's company and love.

A single tear runs down my cheek as I turn my head away and back to the inside of the car, and try to shake those thoughts off my mind. For a second, I'm grateful for the darkness, thinking that it won't let you see that I'm crying. But I forgot how used you are to darkness, how keen your eyes are. Soon, your hand is touching my cheek, wiping the tear from my face. That gesture is completely unexpected to me, since you're not usually one for physical affection, except in extreme circumstances; and I'm sure me crying doesn't count as one, because I seem to do it more frequently than I would like to admit.

But even more unexpected is what I see in your eyes once I lift my chin a little bit to look at you. There's a warmth that I'm very sure I have never seen there before. But that's not all either. There's sadness, and I cannot tell if it is for me, for your own self, or for both of us. There's the weight of a hundred years and a thousand battles, fought with the body as well as the spirit. There are the honor and the soft, silent pride that I have known you for since day one; but there is also what feels like remorse, maybe even guilt, tainting them. And, behind it all... there's love. It's well hidden, as if everything else that is there keeps trying to hide it... but I can see it. And I know it when I do; I always know it. And, suddenly, I understand how wrong I was the day I met you, just like you said I was. Suddenly, out of nowhere, it all makes sense.

_And I said I know it well_   
_That secret that you knew, but don't know how to tell_   
_It fucks with your honor and it teases your head_   
_But you know that it's good, girl_   
_'Cause its running you with red_

I want to look away, I know that I've been staring at your eyes for way too long already, and that's far from appropriate. The fact that I can see your cheeks turn red even in the very dim lights makes it even worse; you're the last person I would have ever expected to see blush. But for some reason, I just can't take my eyes off of yours. It feels wrong to keep looking, but it also feels wrong to stop, when you are opening so much of yourself up for me to see.

As happens often, it's you who makes the decision. And you decide I've seen enough, at least for now. So you shift in your seat, meaning to open the door and finally leave the car, but I stop you. I grab your arm and tell you I don't want to leave just yet... or more like I don't want to go back to the apartment just yet. I don't think I can face all of them, with their songs and their joy and their _family_.

You must see the slight despair in my tone and in my eyes before I even finish speaking, because you stop immediately mid-action and turn to face me again, although making sure to keep your eyes focused on some other point behind me this time. You remind me we haven't had anything to eat for hours, and it's getting colder and colder as the night progresses. In fact, it has just started snowing again. As if on cue, I shiver, clearly showing that you're right; you always are anyway. But I am stubborn, and I want what I want, and I don't give up easily when I want something. You know that by now. And what I want is to stay here.

You must sense my determination, because you don't press any further, and instead simply comply with my wishes... as also happens often. You turn the car back on so that we can at least get the heater working, then you search for something inside your pouch, that you make sure to still carry with you even in this land. I guess it must be your version of a purse or something. You find whatever you were looking for; two of it, even, and you give me one of them before reaching for my hands and taking them between yours.

I feel a light tingly sensation at the touch, that goes up to my scalp and leaves me somewhat fuzzy-headed, but in the best possible way; I feel instantly relaxed too. It's not the spark, the little electricity shock I felt when I touched Philip for the first time; it's a completely different sensation, just like you are completely different from him. But I do enjoy this one too; it's the most I have felt for months now, ever since the day I woke up, the day I lost him, the day _we_ lost him.

_Then the snow started falling_   
_We were stuck out in your car_   
_You were rubbing both of my hands_   
_Chewing on a candy bar_

I don't have an exact notion of the time that's passing, but it seems as if we stay like that for quite a while. I don't say a word, and you don't either. We don't look at each other, either. You look down to the place where our hands are, mine still between yours, as you rub them gently; and I look out the window behind you, trying to follow the snow flakes with my eyes as if that would allow me to catch them before they hit the ground.

Meanwhile, I think. I think about what this is, and what this is not. I am not sure if I can call this love; at least not on _my_ part. I know now that you love me, with all you have. I also know that that is not something you are proud of, and I guess I can at least in part understand why. I was betrothed to your comrade in arms, after all. But I don't know what _I_ myself feel. I care about you, of that much I am sure. I care about you so much, and you have been the most important person in my life since I lost Philip. You have been my constant, my protector, my friend; and as such, I love you. But beyond that, I honestly cannot figure out how I feel.

Maybe because I had never even stopped to consider something like this. I was always so sure that you loved Philip, and I couldn't even really condemn you for that. Not when he is as wonderful as I have always thought he is, not when you travelled with him for years and more years, being next to him every day and getting to experience first hand how amazing he can be. I have always been surprised at the fact that not every single person was in love with him; so of course I could understand you being. I guess that's why it never even crossed my mind that I could actually be the one you love instead. I mean... we had never even met each other before that first day. So how could you love me? How could you, without even knowing me? Just from what Philip told you? How biased could that be, when he was in love with me as much as I was with him? It would have never occurred to me that this was as much as a distant possibility, had I not seen it in your eyes tonight.

So of course I have never thought about what exactly I feel for you in return. I know I love Philip; I still do, even with him gone. He is my true love... the one I lost. But what if there's more than this? What if there can be other loves, even if not as grand? Or what if it turns out there _can_ be more than just one true love? I don't have any of these answers, and to be true, I have never even asked myself these questions up until this very moment. I had already simply accepted that I had missed my chance at love.

But what do you do, when your love is gone forever, and you still have possibly decades of life ahead of you? What do you do, when it all seems hopeless, and yet you're not ready to give up? What _should_ I do? Should I give up anyway, and just keep going alone? Should I try this? _Can_ I try this? Can I love again, and can I love _you_ this way on top of all the ways I already love you?

And what do you do, when your true love is also someone else's true love, and when it's them they love, and not you? What do you do, when you have to accept that the person you love loves someone else, who just so happens to be your brother in arms, your best friend... who also just so happens to love them back? What do you do, when you know you have no chance? You sacrifice, just like you did. You help your friend until he finds his love, _your_ love, and do all you can to make sure they are happy, even if that is offering to sacrifice your own life for that.

But when that doesn't work... when your brother is gone, when your love's love is gone, and when the only two left behind are you and the one you love... what do you do? What _should_ you do? Should you hide it, like you have been doing until tonight, for his sake and in respect to his memory? Should you just continue protecting the one you love with all you have, without ever allowing yourself to demonstrate how you really feel? Should you really feel as guilty about how you feel as you do? Is there really something wrong with allowing your feelings to come out now, when he's gone and we only have each other anyway?

I don't have these answers either... but for some reason, I don't think you should feel as bad as you do about this. You're the most honorable person I have ever known; now I am more sure than ever. But still, I wouldn't say that this makes you any dishonorable at all. Not when you have done all you could to save him, and would have done more if he had let you, even at the cost of your own soul. Not when you have probably had to suffer for years because of this, because of _me_ , and still you never did anything to favor your own self, instead choosing my happiness and his over your own. But when that is not an option anymore... why should you continue hiding? Why should you blame yourself so much for what you feel, and for allowing me to see it in your eyes?

And why should I feel like it's wrong for me to try this? Why should I feel like I am supposed to refuse to ever give love another chance, for the rest of my life, because I lost Philip? Is that what he would have wanted me to do? It saddens me that I can't actually ask him that, but for some reason, I don't think so. I don't think he would have wanted me to remain alone all my years; and I don't think he would have wanted that for you either. I know just how much he trusted you. He trusted you with his own life, and with mine; he told me so himself. So, if anything, he would have probably thought that, if he cannot be with me, you are the next best person. You are the next best person for me to share my life with, and if he ever did know you love me as well, which maybe he does now that he's in another place, then perhaps he would have wanted you to be able to have this chance as well.

All I can figure out right now is that that's what this looks like: a chance. For both of us. We are each other's chance, we are each other's go at finding love, at finding at least some happiness after so much loss. I will always know you are not him; I will always mourn him, and always wish I would have had this chance with him, and I will always be painfully aware of that. And so will you; you will always know that you were not my first choice, and that I would have been with him instead if he was still alive. But things are how they are, and it's no use crying over what could have been and wasn't. What truly _is_ is this, here, now. What truly _is_ is us, inside this car, in this snowy night, with our hands together and our torn hearts and our pains and our confusions and, in spite of it all, with our hopes.

_You said, ain't this just like the present_   
_To be showing up like this?_   
_As the moon waned to crescent_   
_We started to kiss_

I free one of my hands from yours and raise it to cup your cheek. You finally bring yourself to face me again, and I smile slightly upon realizing that there is actually a hint of fear in your eyes. That is all too rare for you: you're a warrior, perhaps the bravest I've ever met; you're not commonly afraid. But I guess I must be an exception to that, because I heard you _were_ afraid when Cora kidnapped me, and I could clearly see you were also quite afraid before giving me my heart back. It just seems a bit funny that you would be afraid now, when there is no actual danger involved, and it makes me chuckle a bit to see how meek the mighty warrior becomes when it comes down to love. I find it endearing in a way that I cannot even begin to describe.

I just hope you can see it in my eyes, the same way I saw it in yours, that I do want to give us a chance. Because I honestly don't think I would be able to find the words to explain this. But I do. I might not know exactly how far my feelings for you go, differently from you, and I know even less if this is going to work out or not... but I do want to try, and I need you to know that somehow. I need you to know that it's okay. It's okay to feel the way you do, and it's okay to let me see it, and it's okay to act on it. It's okay. _This_ is okay. We will be fine somehow. We can try this, and whether this is the way or not, whether our ways are actually together from now on or not, we both _will_ find a way to be fine, to heal, to go on. And if all goes right, we might be able to do it right by each other. I need you to know it.

I see your fear subsiding little by little, I see relief taking its place and washing your whole face and your whole body and allowing you to finally relax all the muscles I had not even realized you had been tensing during the last couple of hours or so. And then I know for sure that you understood. I take it as a good sign, that we can somehow already read each other this well even without words. Because I know sometimes there just aren't any, and sometimes the ones that are there are simply not enough. Once more I give a small smile, more to my own self than to you, as I think that, just maybe, we can actually do this. Just maybe, we can be alright, we can make this work somehow.

I lean in slowly, and I see you doing the same. We stop just inches away from each other, and I cannot be entirely sure if it is due to one last bit of hesitation, or to wanting to savor the moment, or even simply due to the sheer knowledge that everything is about to change, right now. It has been miserable though, for both of us, so far; I am more than ready for change. I close the very short distance between us and graze your lips with mine, as softly as I can. One of my hands is still cupping your cheek, and I take the chance to run my thumb along it, noticing how warm your skin feels. I could bet you're blushing again. The thought makes me smile against your mouth, and I think to myself that this is the third smile to find its way to my lips in a very short time, when I can sometimes go days and days without smiling just once.

You capture my lips with yours far more fiercely. I understand. I know you have been waiting for this moment for so long, at the same time never believing it would actually happen. Your hands finally release mine, moving to my waist instead and pulling me towards you so that we're actually sharing the same seat, with me nearly sitting on your lap. You hold me close tightly, like you're afraid I might run away or disappear or something, You hold onto me as if you will never let me go. And I feel safe, safer than I have felt perhaps since I was a child, before I knew of Maleficent's threat, before I was aware that me or my family were in any danger at all.

My other hand goes up to your hair, tangling itself in it, and for a brief second I notice how different it is from Philip's short hair, how much softer and silkier and pleasant to touch. For a short moment, I notice how this all feels different from kissing him; not in a negative way, just... different. But right as that thought comes, it also downs on me that I could quickly get used to this. I could quickly get used to the feel of your skin and of your lips on mine and of your hair and of your arms around my waist. In fact, I'm pretty sure that, the moment we stop, I'll already start missing it.

That's when I am finally sure that, whatever it is that I feel for you, it's more than friendly love, more than loyalty, more than our promise to Philip to keep each other safe. It might take me a while to love you like I love him, and I am not yet entirely sure that is even possible... but now I feel like there is at least a chance that it might be. Because, right now, I do know one thing, and that thing is that I am falling for you faster than the snow is falling from the sky.

We finally let go of each other when we need air, and I look outside just in time to see the sun starting to rise ahead of us. It's Christmas day, and I _do_ have a family to spend it with.

_And I said I know it well_   
_That secret that we know, that we don't know how to tell_   
_I'm in love with your honor, I'm in love with your cheeks_   
_What's that noise up the stairs, babe?_   
_Is that Christmas morning creaks?_

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! Please let me know what you think.
> 
> The song is "Blood Bank", by Bon Iver.


End file.
